Ours
by jordiebelizabeth
Summary: Harry Potter receives help on platform nine and three quarters from the Malfoys, not the Weasleys. How does Harry's story change? Together, he and his friends watch their beliefs shattered, deep betrayal threatens to destroy them, and the return of Voldemort will put more people in danger than ever before. But this time, more than one innocent life may be spared.
1. Chapter 1

Panic began to set in, but Harry took a few deep breaths and kept moving forward. Hedwig's cage teetered on top of his cart, her great white head swiveling this way and that. Once or twice, Harry could have sworn he saw her rest her golden eyes on him, seeming to sense uncertainty in her new friend.

King's Cross teemed with people moving at brisk speeds. It appeared that for every calm traveller, two more ran late and harried. Their nervous energy fed into Harry's own, his hands gripping the cart with white knuckles. He gulped as he neared platform eight. . . nine. . .

Ten.

Of course platform ten was next. No Muggle station had a platform nine and three quarters.

Despair hit Harry now. How could he board the Hogwarts Express if he couldn't even find it? He turned to search for help—perhaps a wizard conductor worked nearby?—when he saw a small family pass on the other side of the hall.

"—amazing how the Muggles never notice the countless patrons disappearing—"

 _Muggles!_

Harry hastily steered his cart to follow the woman who spoke. She was tall and beautiful with shining, pale blond hair, a trait she shared with her husband and son.

"Lucius, why don't you pass through first?" the woman said as she laid a hand gently on her husband's arm. "You remember how hectic the platform gets. I'd hate for Draco to get lost on his first day."

The man smiled and nodded. "Certainly. Draco, you know how it's done. Watch me."

The boy—Draco—nodded dutifully to his father. The man took his place between the columns of platform nine and ten, glancing around to make sure no Muggles were paying attention. Then, he strode confidently straight at the wall and disappeared.

Harry stared, then blinked hard to make sure he wasn't dreaming. That man had just walked through solid brick! He didn't hear a spell or see a wand, either. Immensely confused and now more desperate than ever, Harry forced himself to approach the woman and her son, who was already moving his cart between the platforms.

"Excuse me," Harry said. The woman turned, and her cool expression sent a wave of nervousness through him. "I- I'm sorry, but could you tell me…how to…"

Harry gestured to the wall.

"How to get on to the platform?" the woman clarified. "Surely your parents told you. No one would send their child off to the platform alone without instructing them on how to find it."

Harry felt discouraged. "My parents died a long time ago. And the man who brought me here had to leave on urgent business. I think he forgot to tell me."

"I see," she said, her brow furrowed. "What is your name?"

"Harry Potter, ma'am," he replied, and held out his hand.

The woman's eyebrows shot up, and her son gasped behind her.

" _The_ Harry Potter?" he asked.

"Er, yes?" Harry replied, hand still suspended in midair.

The blond boy immediately stepped over, taking Harry's hand and shaking it firmly.

"I'm Malfoy," he said. "Draco Malfoy."

"Pleasure to meet you," Harry said, smiling hesitantly at Draco's forward demeanor.

The woman, who had watched the exchange with a curious look in her eye, slowly let a soft smile creep onto her fair face.

"It's nice to meet you, Harry Potter," she finally replied, and her dulcet tone made Harry's discomfort vanish slightly. "My name is Narcissa Malfoy. I'm Draco's mother."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, too," he said. And because he wasn't sure how to properly greet a witch, he held out his hand again to shake. Draco smirked, particularly at the surprised look on his mother's face, and Narcissa seemed to find it humorous, as well. She took his fingers with her own delicate hand and shook daintily.

"It's your first year at Hogwarts, is it not?" she asked.

"Yes, Mrs. Malfoy," Harry answered.

"Not to worry, it's Draco's first year, as well," Narcissa replied, turning to her son.

"It will be nice to have met a friend before the term starts. Draco darling, show Harry how to pass through the barrier. We don't want to keep your father waiting."

"Yes, mother." Draco smiled and turned back to his cart, gripping it firmly with both hands.

"It's quite simple, Potter," he called over. "Just run straight at the wall, and it'll let you through. Watch!"

With that, Draco pushed his cart hard at the wall. Just when logic told Harry he would crash into the brick, the boy vanished, just like his father. Harry let out the breath he'd been holding.

Mrs. Malfoy gave him a tiny push on the square of his back. "You next, dear."

Harry looked up at her. "Are you sure? They won't mind if I go before you?"

She smiled. "No, thank you. Besides, I'll be here if you get stuck."

"You can get stuck?" Harry asked horrified. Narcissa laughed.

"No, I meant that I can help you if you have trouble getting through."

Relief washed through Harry. Squaring his shoulders, Harry pushed his cart into position just as Draco had done. Hedwig gave him a nervous hoot.

"Remember, you won't hit the wall," Mrs. Malfoy instructed. "Just keep going."

Harry nodded and gripped his cart. Then, before he could think himself into doubt, he hurled himself forward as fast as he could. The wall sped toward him, but Harry closed his eyes and pushed harder. A wave of cool air passed over him, and Harry snapped his eyes open, pulling to a stop.

This crowd of people differed distinctly from King's Cross's normal patronage. Vibrant robes and bizarre hats adorned most of the passing bodies. Owls and rats squeaked at each other from their cages. A sign signifying that this was, indeed, platform nine and three quarters hung barely readable through the think white steam pouring from the crowning glory of the scene. A glistening red steam engine dominated the room, the words _Hogwarts Express_ lettered golden and shimmery across its side.

"There he is! Father, come meet him!"

Harry heard Draco's voice somewhere to his right. He looked and saw the boy directing his father over to where Harry stood.

"Be calm, Draco," Narcissa said next to Harry's shoulder. He jumped. She must have just come through the barrier, herself.

"Harry, dear, let's move over to them," she commanded. "We don't want to be run over standing here."

Harry obeyed and pushed his cart over to where Draco waited eagerly.

"Draco, introduce your new friend," Mrs. Malfoy instructed.

"Father," he said, walking over to Harry and standing next to him. "I'd like you to meet Harry Potter."

The older man's face changed to one of shock. Immediately, his eyes moved to Harry's forehead, searching for the famous scar.

"Harry Potter, this is my father, Lucius Malfoy," Draco proudly finished the introductions.

"It's nice to meet you, sir," Harry said quietly, holding out his hand. He really needed to find out how to properly greet someone in the wizarding world.

Lucius only stared. "Harry Potter…"

"Yes, Lucius," Narcissa said, laying a hand on Harry's shoulder. Something in her tone caused her husband to look up at her expression.

But Lucius had already made his decision about the boy. The elder Malfoy put on a smile and took Harry's hand.

"Forgive me," he said smoothly, "but you carry a rather famous name, Mr. Potter."

"I've been told," Harry mumbled. "It's nice to meet you."

"Likewise. I trust you are excited for your first term. Have you thought about which House you'd prefer to be in?" Mr. Malfoy questioned.

If Harry had been looking behind him, he would have seen Narcissa cast an exasperated expression toward her husband. Harry, though, only furrowed his eyebrows at the question.

"I don't really know much about them," Harry admitted. "I only found out I was a wizard recently."

"Recently?" Lucius asked, puzzled. "You were kept unaware of your heritage?"

Harry felt a bit embarrassed, but nodded. From what he could tell, this family knew everything about magic. He found it hard not to feel foolish standing with them knowing so little.

Mrs. Malfoy, as any good mother can, sensed the boy's discomfort and squeezed his shoulder.

"Well, all the better that you found us," she said soothingly. "Draco can answer any questions you have on the train to Hogwarts. You'll find your fit."

"Certainly," Lucius grinned, following his wife's lead. "Speaking of the train, we need to get your trunks on board. Only a few minutes until departure."

They spent the rest of their time on the platform loading their luggage, last-minute checks for potentially missing items, and Draco saying farewell to his parents. Harry ended up getting a small, quick embrace from Narcissa and a whispered wish of good luck.

"Come on, Potter!" Draco called from the door to the carriage nearby. "Before the seats fill up!"

Harry rushed over. Draco waved one last time at his parents, then pulled Harry onto the train.

"Let's find a seat," Draco said. Harry nodded and followed the blond boy down the length of the carriage.

When they were out of sight, Mr. Malfoy smirked happily at his wife.

"The train hasn't left the station and Draco's already made the acquaintance of the most famous wizard in recent history," he said proudly. "What an advantage to have going into the school year. If he could persuade Potter to favor Slytherin—"

"Lucius, hush!" Narcissa chastised. "Never mind fame or houses. I see a darling friendship starting between the two, and I will not have you corrupt it with your scheming."

Lucius held up his hands. "Very well, I won't involve myself."

A pause.

"But you have to admit Potter is quite the catch for Draco's social standing."

" _Lucius._ "


	2. Chapter 2

Harry stretched out on the seat, relieved to be out of the crowded hallway. Draco immediately started a conversation as soon as they stepped into the mercifully empty compartment and hadn't stopped talking since, but Harry didn't care. Disbelief still hung about his head as he contemplated where he was going. Harry grinned. He really was a wizard.

"What are you smiling about?" Draco asked suddenly.

Harry shrugged. "Nothing really. I'm just happy to be going to Hogwarts."

"It is exciting. I've been looking forward to it for so long, I felt like time was moving backwards," Draco said. "What did you mean earlier, when you said you only found out recently that you're a wizard?"

"Well, I was raised by my aunt and uncle," Harry explained, "and they're Muggles. I didn't ask them about it, but I think they hate magic."

"Hate magic?" Draco whispered with wide eyes. Harry smiled at that. He liked that Draco loved magic so much. It calmed him somehow.

"Yeah," Harry said, "but I think they're probably just afraid of it. I can't imagine they understand any of it."

He paused.

"Come to think of it, I'm not sure I understand it."

"Well, no one understands all of it," Draco waved his hand as if he could dismiss Harry's doubt with a simple command. "It's impossible to be a complete expert. There's too much to it. But you'll see, that's what school is for."

Harry grinned and leaned forward. "What kind of classes do they teach?"

"Let's see…there's Charms, Potions, Transfiguration, Herbology, Divination—but we won't take that yet—Defense Against the Dark Arts…"

Draco smirked as Harry's mouth fell further and further open as the list went on. He was just about to launch into the details of potions, when—

"Excuse me."

Harry and Draco both looked to the door. A boy with vibrant red hair and a sweater that was a size too big for him stood halfway in the compartment, a mangy rat held in his hands. If Harry had been looking at Draco, he would have seen the pale boy's face contort into an expression of derision.

"Do you mind?" the boy continued, eyes focused mostly on Harry. "Everywhere else is full."

Draco opened his mouth, wicked words poised on his tongue, but Harry unintentionally beat him to it.

"Not at all."

Draco's mouth slapped shut, and he spun to gaze incredulously at Harry. Meanwhile, the redheaded boy finally took notice of the compartment's other occupant and turned a bit white. Harry frowned and glanced between them.

"It's…all right," he said slowly. "You can sit with us."

Harry pat the seat next to him, and the boy cautiously sat down. He glanced up at Draco, who glared daggers at the newcomer. Harry shifted uncomfortably.

"Er, what's your name?" he tried. Draco snorted.

"No need to ask that," he snapped. "Red hair, and a hand-me-down sweater? You must be a _Weasley_."

The boy's ears grew hot. "It's Ron."

Draco ignored him and turned to Harry. "You'll soon find that some wizarding families are better than others. I can help you there."

"What?" Harry asked, shocked at Draco's sudden change in demeanor. "Why?"

"Because some families, like the _Malfoys_ ," the redhead sneered, "believe that only purebloods should be allowed to use magic. They tolerate half-bloods, but Muggle-borns and blood traitors are the scum of the earth."

"Couldn't have said it better," Draco smirked.

"I don't understand any of what you said," Harry admitted, head reeling. "Are there different kinds of wizards?"

"No," Ron answered, cutting Draco off. "Not if you're a decent human being. Do you not know about blood status?"

"I'm guessing you're not talking about O negative."

Ron and Draco both blinked at him.

"You don't have any idea…" Ron muttered, frowning. "Are you a Muggle-born? And if so, why are _you—"_ he whipped his gaze to Draco— "associating with him? I thought he was your _lesser._ "

Draco sat up straighter. "He's no Muggle-born! He's Harry Potter!"

Ron's mouth fell open, and he stared at Harry. The silence that fell grew long and awkward when no one spoke.

"Um, yeah," Harry mumbled. "My name is Harry."

Ron came back to himself and swallowed. "Do you really have the…you know…scar?"

Harry grinned at the odd question and pushed up his hair for Ron to see. Out of

the corner of his eye, he saw Draco strain his neck to peek, as well.

"Wicked," Ron breathed.

"Thanks," Harry said and dropped his bangs back into place. "Does everyone know about my scar, too?"

"Bloody hell, you don't know you're famous, either?" Ron asked, bewildered.

"Muggles raised him," Draco offered as a curt explanation. "That's why he doesn't know about blood status. Or Houses."

"Doesn't know about Houses?" the redhead muttered half to himself, shaking his head.

"Well, if someone would explain, that would be helpful," Harry tentatively suggested, glad that the fight over blood status was temporarily over.

He hoped.

"Well, there's four of them," Draco started. "You're sorted into one as soon as you get to the school and you're a part of it until you graduate."

"How do you get sorted?" Harry asked.

"The Sorting Hat," Ron said simply. "It's enchanted. It sort of looks inside you and judges where you fit in the best."

"And if you want to be anyone someday, you want Slytherin," Draco declared proudly. "It's the best House. They're green and silver, with a snake for a mascot, and known for cunning and ambition. My family's been in Slytherin for generations, as have most pureblood families. And by pureblood, I mean families with a pure line of wizards and witches, no Muggles."

"Yeah, and they've also had more wizards turn bad than any other house," Ron retorted, earning a scowl from Draco. "Gryffindor beats Slytherin any day. It's the lion House, known for bravery. We've got red and gold as our colors. That's the house I'll probably be in."

Draco laughed disdainfully.

"What are the other two?" Harry asked quickly.

"Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw," Draco explained, though he didn't seem to care. "Hufflepuff is the lame house. Maybe even worse than _Gryffindor_."

"Not true!" Ron defended. "Hufflepuff is a great house. They stand for loyalty, and they're easily the kindest house, that's for sure. They're badgers with yellow and black. Ravenclaw's the blue and bronze house, known for wisdom."

"Let me guess," Harry said. "Their mascot is the raven."

"Eagle."

"…Oh."

Draco and Ron both snickered.

"So which one do you reckon you'll be in?" Ron asked.

Harry thought for a moment. "I don't really know. I don't think I'll get into Ravenclaw. I'm not that smart. I don't know how loyal I am, but I don't know if I'm that brave, either. And I've never thought of myself as ambitious or cunning."

Draco sighed but then shrugged. "Well, that's what the hat's for. You'll find your House."

Harry smiled appreciatively, but then frowned. "But what if I don't get into your House?"

Draco furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"

"You said Slytherin is the best," Harry said, "and that almost all purebloods go there. If I don't get in, doesn't that pretty much mean that I'm not pureblood?"

"Not necessarily," Draco said slowly, shifting uncomfortably. "But why would that matter?"

"I thought you said that blood status is important," Harry said, confusion showing through his voice.

Draco sat silently for a moment, staring down at the carpet. Ron pretended to pick lint off his sleeve.

"I mean, it's…" Draco started. "It's…not like…"

He stopped and frowned. Draco had never actually thought about it before. His father always told him his worth, told him to never forget it. Mother didn't say as much out loud, but Draco watched the way she held herself around those she thought lesser. He trusted his parents. But they were thrilled to meet Harry Potter today, just as much as him. Draco found it hard to believe they would tell him to throw a friendship with _the_ Harry Potter away because he was in a different House, or even of a different blood status.

"I…yes, we would still be friends," Draco said quietly. "The house thing really isn't that big of a deal. And the blood status thing…"

His voice died out. He couldn't give that up. Maybe it didn't matter with Harry, but it certainly mattered with everyone else. Surely, that was a reasonable breech in beliefs, one that would please his father in particular. Draco met Harry's eyes again.

"Yes, we'll be friends," he said with more confidence. Harry felt relief at his words.

"Excellent," he responded, and Draco smiled. Ron visibly relaxed now that the tension had gone.

The compartment door slid open. An elderly woman with snow-white hair poked her head in and grinned.

"Anything from the trolley, dears?" she asked sweetly, stepping back to reveal the cart of snacks. Harry's eyes went wide at the colorful display. Candies, goodies, sweets, pies, pasties, all stacked haphazardly and looking so delicious…

"No thanks, I'm all set," Ron grumbled and held up a soggy sandwich. Even Draco gave him a look of pity.

Harry remembered the change in his pocket and couldn't suppress a sudden impulse.

"We'll take the lot!" he declared and pulled out the shimmering golden coins. Ron and Draco both grinned like mad.

Soon, questions of houses and blood and Weasleys and Malfoys buried themselves under a small mountain of color and laughter and far too much sugar.


	3. Chapter 3

The train flew through the countryside, but Harry felt as if time took a holiday. Already Hogwarts surpassed every experience he'd ever had, and he wasn't even there yet. Ron sat tearing into a licorice wand while Draco tossed Harry a package.

"Try this one, Potter," he said.

Harry inspected the treat. "Bertie Bott's Every-Flavor Beans?"

"Good luck," Ron warned. "They really do mean every flavor."

Harry picked a bright blue bean and popped it into his mouth. It tasted…rather strange. He frowned as he tried to figure it out.

"I snuck my friend Vincent a curdled dragon's milk one, and he nearly threw up."

"My brother Fred swore he got a bogie flavored bean once."

Harry slowly took the bean out of his mouth. He suddenly didn't want to know the flavor. Harry noticed another box of the Every-Flavor Beans sitting on Ron's lap with a small animal half-shoved inside.

"This is Scabbers," Ron said. "Pathetic, isn't he?"

"Just a little," Harry said quietly.

"Fred gave me a coloring spell. Want to see me turn him yellow?" Ron asked.

"Yes!" Harry exclaimed, while Draco pretended to look uninterested.

Ron whipped out his wand and cleared his throat for dramatic effect. But just as he raised his wand, a girl suddenly slid the compartment door open with a sharp

tug.

"Have any of you seen a toad?" she asked with an impatient sigh. "A boy named Neville's lost one."

A bit dumbfounded, the boys shook their heads. The girl took them in, and her face lit up when she caught sight of Ron's wand poised in midair.

"Are you about to do magic?" she pressed excitedly. "Let's see, then!"

Ron, now flustered, cleared his throat again. "Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow. _Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow!_ "

A small puff of smoke blew the box off of Scabbers, who gave an indignant squeak. But otherwise, the mangy rodent remained unchanged. Ron looked up and shrugged apologetically at his audience.

"Are you sure that's a real spell?" the girl inquired. "Well, it didn't work."

Draco openly rolled his eyes. The girl, if she noticed, kept talking anyway.

"I've been trying to get ahead, myself. I bought all my books and read most of them already. We're not to use magic outside school, but I practiced a bit in my compartment earlier."

The girl flounced through the door and plopped down next to Draco, who looked horrified at her proximity. She drew her wand from inside her robes.

"For example," she stated, and without warning, pointed the wand at Harry's face. " _Occulus Reparo_."

 _Snap!_

Harry flinched at the sound and watched as his glasses, taped together in the middle, fixed themselves on his nose.

"That's better, isn't it?" she stated proudly. Suddenly, her expression changed, and she squinted at Harry's face. "Holy cricket, you're Harry Potter! I'm Hermione Granger."

She turned to the other two boys. "And you are?"

"M' Ron Weasley," the ginger said with a mouthful of Pumpkin Pasty.

"Malfoy," Draco said curtly. "Draco."

"Pleasure," Hermione replied, disdainful expression on her face. Draco molded his to match. She rose and made her way to the door. "I recommend putting on your robes. We'll be arriving soon."

She turned to look back.

"And you've got dirt on your nose, did you know?" she told Ron. And with that, the girl swept out of the compartment.

A stunned silence reigned over the three boys in the wake of Hermione's visit.

"Well," Draco spoke up first, "she was charming."

"Maybe she's just nervous," Harry suggested.

"Nervous? She cast a spell on your glasses while they were still on your face!" Ron said.

"Yeah, but…"

"But nothing!" Draco interrupted. "Miss _Hermione Granger_ needs to keep her nose out of other people's business. End of story."

"She's right, though," Ron said. "We'll probably be at Hogwarts in less than an hour. We need to get our robes."

Draco rolled his eyes again. "Right, if _she_ told us to change, then I guess we must."

The boys each pulled their black robes from their trunks and dressed. Harry felt a thrill run through him as the warm fabric clung to his shoulders and draped over his arms. _This is it,_ he thought, the excitement filling him up like a boiling kettle.

No more Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon. No more cupboards under the stairs. No more oversized clothes worn before him by a cousin who resented his existence. No more _just Harry._ Something he thought must be joy sprouted in his chest. Harry looked up at Ron and Draco, the same anticipation for their arrival shining in their faces, too. He couldn't help but grin.

"I have a good feeling about this year."

::::::::::

Harry thought it likely that he would never in his life see anything more beautiful.

Hogwarts sat glimmering above him, a towering structure of stone set against the stars. His neck hurt from throwing his head back in an effort to take in each spire and candlelit window, but he couldn't bring himself to care. The arches swooped overhead as the castle seemed to shepherd the new students in. Harry was filled with wonder as he made his way inside with the other first years. A stern witch in green robes gave them an introduction that Harry tried very hard to pay attention to in spite of his wandering eyes.

The witch—Professor McGonagall, he corrected—led the first years through a set of large wooden doors and entered the Great Hall. The room was enormous, with four long tables filled with students, floating candles hovering in the air, and walls that reached up and up until they bled into the night sky.

Harry overheard Hermione somewhere behind him talking about the enchantment used on the ceiling, and it dawned on him that all of this was very real. He became aware all at once of the many hundreds of eyes trained on him and the other first years, and a pit of nervousness bloomed in his stomach. He glanced to the side at Draco, who didn't seem at all surprised at the decor, and in fact seemed to be doing his best to maintain an expression of uncaring. Ron, on his other side, gaped openly at everything.

"Didn't your family tell you what it was like?" Harry asked Ron quietly.

"Yeah, but…" Ron replied softly, "it's not seeing it, you know?"

Harry nodded. Yes, he imagined all the words in the world couldn't convey the feeling he now had standing in the heart of Hogwarts.

The first years stopped before the high table and a little stool, upon which sat a rather beat-up hat. Harry remembered Professor McGonagall explaining the Sorting Hat, and the nervousness Harry felt before made its presence known with greater force. How would the Sorting Hat know which House he belonged in if Harry didn't know, himself?

Professor McGonagall strode to stand by the Sorting Hat and held up a roll of parchment.

"When I call your name," she announced, and all whispered chatter in the Great Hall died away, "you will come up and sit on this stool. I will place the Sorting Hat on your head, and you will be sorted into your House. After you have been sorted, you may go and sit at your House table. Understood?"

The first years all nodded, and the room held its breath for the first name.

"Hannah Abbott."

A trembling girl walked out from the safety of the crowd and climbed awkwardly onto the stool. Professor McGonagall lowered the tattered Sorting Hat onto her head, the brim slipping down over her eyes. After a second, Hannah jumped and gasped in shock. Harry gulped. What was it doing to her?

As he watched, a rip near the brim of the Hat started to open on its own, and a loud voice called out, "HUFFLEPUFF!"

The nearest table to Harry's right exploded into cheers, and a relieved Hannah slid off the stool and ran over to the welcoming shouts of her new House.

"Susan Bones," McGonagall called.

And so the sorting continued. Harry felt his trepidation increase as the crowd of first years diminished.

"Hermione Granger."

The bushy haired girl from the train sucked in a deep breath and walked to the stool. McGonagall let the Hat fall over her eyes and waited for the decision. But unlike the previous students, the hat remained silent for a long time. McGonagall's eyebrows rose as the minutes wore on. Harry leaned over to Draco.

"Why is it taking so long?" he whispered.

Draco muttered, "The Hat's having a hard time deciding where to sort her. She probably fits with two or more Houses pretty well. I just hope it doesn't pick Slytherin."

Harry frowned. "Why?"

"Because she's annoying!" Draco scoffed.

Harry nearly missed Draco's answer as the Sorting Hat finally announced, "GRYFFINDOR!"

The following shouts were probably some of the loudest of the night so far, and Harry eyed the table of celebrating Gryffindors as Hermione skipped over. They seemed excited to have gotten a student that was difficult to place.

"Draco Malfoy."

Draco didn't pause as he sauntered up to the stool. Harry admired him briefly for keeping a calm face despite the pressure. Although, Harry thought, Draco seemed very sure of himself on the train. Maybe he really wasn't worried.

Harry got his answer. No sooner had the Hat graced the boy's blond hair then it

shouted, "SLYTHERIN!"

Draco smiled knowingly and gave Harry a wink as he made his way to the cheering sea of black and green at the far left side of the room. So Draco had known where he belonged. Harry found himself wishing for the same confidence.

"Ron Weasley."

Ron walked forward and settled down, but it only took a few seconds for the Sorting Hat to shout, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Ron smiled, and Harry saw three other particularly enthusiastic redheads rush to meet Ron at the end of the table.

"Harry Potter."

The Great Hall suddenly went still, and a sea of whispers accompanied Harry as he stalked shakily toward the stool. He looked up into McGonagall's stern face before he turned and sat in front of the many eyes trained on him. Thankfully, the Sorting Hat was big enough to fall and block his view of the room.

A voice talked into his ear, making Harry jump in surprise.

"Ah, quite the choice," the Sorting Hat croaked. "I sense courage in you, and a

sound mind. And there's quite a bit of talent to go with it! But where to put you?"

Harry didn't know. Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw seemed ill-fitted for him, but he felt like he could find his place both in Gryffindor and in Slytherin. He thought about

Draco, how he'd been the first to welcome him at the station, how Narcissa Malfoy had sent him off like a mother, how the Slytherins had made way for Draco at their table like he was made for them. But he thought of Gryffindor as well. Ron joined with his family—both blood and House—and Hermione was celebrated even though she clearly could have belonged to another House. But was that for him? Harry didn't know.

"Difficult," the Hat murmered. "Very difficult. There's courage in your heart, and your name carries the Gryffindor tradition. But you could be great in Slytherin."

 _My name?_ Harry thought.

"Yes, your name dates back with Gryffindor's own for centuries," the Hat said. "Your father, and his father, and back for generations. All Gryffindors."

Harry was stunned. To think he had never known…

"Your mother was a Gryffindor, too."

Harry felt something inside him glow warm. His mother. Sometimes he imagined he could remember her. He wasn't sure if that was true, but he liked to think that even though he only knew her as a baby, part of her would always exists in his memory. If she was a Gryffindor, and his father was, too, then maybe he could find home where they did.

"Are you sure?" the Sorting Hat asked. "Slytherin could be your home just as well."

But Harry's mind was made up, and the burning in his heart told him he was right. He shook his head.

"Very well," the Hat conceded. "GRYFFINDOR!"

The Gryffindor table leapt to their feet and roared. Harry beamed as he jumped to the floor and turned to the red-robed table. With each step, the fire in his chest grew hotter, and he knew he made the right choice. The faces of students he would soon know better than he knew himself were getting nearer, and within seconds he was at the table, inducted into their House with many handshakes, pats on the back, and names shouted in his ear.

After several moments, McGonagall finally cowed the excessive shouting with her best Look of Disapproval, and Harry could finally breathe. He looked up and searched for Draco, locking eyes with him at the Slytherin table. The blond boy remained stone faced for a while, and Harry worried that his friendship with Draco would be over before it began. He really didn't want to lose the first person he met in his new life. But for some reason, Draco's face suddenly relaxed. He only shrugged and looked away with an expression of indifference.

Harry grinned. He didn't know Draco very well yet, but something told him that Draco's dismissal was uncharacteristically gentle. He'd probably hear all about how superior Slytherin was later, but that was a small price to pay for peace.

That night, as Harry fell into bed, he wondered what his dreams would be like now that his life had become one. His cheeks hurt from smiling so much that day, but he let one more slide onto his face as he closed his eyes.

At only eleven years old, Harry had a lot of life to live and learn about. But even he could tell that something had begun that night. And he couldn't wait to see where it took him.


End file.
